


Speakeasy

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary - Fandom
Genre: 1920s, Exhibitionism, F/M, Prohibition, Strip Tease, Voyeurism, flapper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen gets into a jam and needs a getaway driver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speakeasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [openended](https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/gifts).



Privacy was her only weapon, and she used it well. She had a small changing area just off the stage, protected from the audience by a sheer curtain. She leaned against the brick wall and closed her eyes, trying to make herself forget where she was for a moment. James was in England, and Helen thought New York would be a lovely diversion after spending so long traipsing around in the African desert. She had hardly been there for a week when the first call for help came. She investigated and found that an _enaend_ was being held prisoner at an illegal tavern in the Bowery. The proprietors were charging admission to see the creature and, in the back room, illegally sold alcohol. When the customers were good and drunk, they returned to the front room to tease the _enaend_ to do its 'tricks.'

Only Helen knew that the so-called tricks were really a defense mechanism. If the _enaend_ truly felt threatened, it could wipe out the entire island without a second thought. She had to rescue it before that happened. Unfortunately the only way in was undercover, and there was only one type of woman these bars allowed through their doors.

The music began to play and she closed her eyes in irritation. Helen braced herself and roughly pinched her own cheeks to bring her blush back up. She swept back the curtain as she placed a huge, fake smile on her face and stepped back out into the spotlight. The crowd hooted and howled, and Helen placed one hand on her thigh while blowing a kiss to the men with the other.

She was wearing a red flapper dress that seemed the tremble with even the slightest move, making her body look like it was constantly in motion. Her hair was cut extremely short and curled, and a strap across her forehead kept the sweat from her eyes and sported a tall red feather that made her feel like a peacock. She danced, very aware of just how much of her legs were on display. She moved her hands in circles, kicked up her platform heels, and she did it all with a smile. As long as the men were entertained by her, they wouldn't torture the poor _enaend_ until it was forced to kill them all.

When she took the job, her plan had been simple. She was going to get inside, learn the layout, and then escape with the Abnormal when no one was looking. Unfortunately the speakeasy's security was far more elaborate than she anticipated. She couldn't even get close to the cage, let alone figure out a way to get the creature out, without drawing undue attention to herself. She managed to get away long enough to send a telegram to the Hotel New Yorker. Now she just had to wait and pray her backup was coming.

In the middle of a Charleston, swinging her pearl necklace like a rope around her neck, the lights radically dimmed. The music halted, then picked up again as someone banged the piano. Helen kept dancing, and people kept drinking as the lights continued to dim and brighten. Only Helen noticed the pattern, keeping track as she faked her way through the dance. As long as she thrust her chest and wagged her hips, no one cared if she missed a step here or there.

Four dots, a single dot... dot dash dot dot. Seven letters in all, spelling out HI HELEN.

She didn't stop dancing, but she felt a surge of relief as the front door burst open and Nikola Tesla stepped into the room. He wore a three-piece suit, his tie tack glinting in the dim light. He took the cigar from his mouth long enough to whistle, and the music clambered to a stop. Nikola scanned the room from beneath the brim of his fedora, not stopping when he spotted Helen in the crowd.

"Awright, this is a raid, see?"

Helen cringed and closed her eyes.

"Everyone line up along this wall. No funny business, Jake."

Helen stepped off the stage, her hands held high as she complied with the "officer's" request. Nikola grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the group. "Not you, toots."

"Why're you guys always hasselin' me?"

She could see Nikola trying not to smirk at her squeaky Noo Yawk accent. "Just stand over here 'til I can deal with ya properly. You there, put down that bottle."

Helen slipped out the door behind Nikola. The _enaend_ sat in its small metal cage and bristled when she approached. It was a ball of gray fur with large eyes, the oversized paws of its front legs spread in a fearful stance. Helen smiled at it and spoke in her true voice. "It's all right. We're taking you somewhere safe. Don't worry."

She lifted the cage just as the door to the bathroom opened. The owner of the speakeasy, Warren, stepped out with a Tommy gun in hand. Apparently he'd heard the cop's arrival and planned to deal with the situation himself. He looked at the bizarre display of his tavern's entertainment holding the other entertainment.

"Oh, bloody hell." She put down the cage as Warren lifted his gun to take aim. There was a candle in a glass votive on one of the tables, and Helen grabbed it. The flame warmed her palm as she lobbed it like a grenade. The glass shattered when it hit Warren's head, and he fell backward. His finger squeezed the trigger and Helen ducked as a burst of gunfire shattered the mirror on the far wall.

Helen scooped up the _enaend_ 's cage, ducked to one side to grab Warren's Tommy gun, and ran for the door. More gunfire erupted in the back room, and Nikola came running.

"So much for a quiet escape," he shouted as he came up behind Helen. His shirt was covered with blood, torn in several places by bullet wounds that didn't seem to have slowed him down at all.

"I do hope you left the car running."

They reached the street and found a Chrysler idling at the curb. Nikola leapt higher and farther than any human had a right to, landing in the street on the driver's side. He yanked open the door as Helen got into the passenger side. She placed the _enaend_ 's cage in the floorboard as drinkers from the tavern began to empty out onto the street.

"Are you...?"

"Injured?" Nikola winced as he touched his chest. He seemed more concerned about the suit than his wounded flesh. "I think it's safe to say that's a dumb question."

Helen twisted in the seat and looked out the back window. Another Chrysler, its twin headlights shining like the eyes of a bug, roared out from a side street. Helen could see a man standing on the side runner, a gun in his hand. "Damn. Looks like we're not out of the woods yet." She picked up the Tommy gun she'd stolen, grabbed the upper edge of the window and pulled herself up and out the window.

"Helen!"

She ignored Nikola's protest and hooked her right foot under the edge of the seat. She kept her thighs together, sitting on the edge of the window as she took aim at their pursuers. She opened fire, and the car behind them swerved to avoid it. She was very aware of the length of her skirt, the amount of her lower body on display, so she wasn't surprised when their car started to veer toward the side of the road.

"Focus, Nikola!"

"I'm trying!"

She fired again and the headlight of their chasers exploded. She heard a man cry out in pain, and the gunfire from the chase car stopped. When they rounded a corner, a police car joined the chase. Their pursuers peeled off, and the cops went in pursuit of them.

Helen slid back into the car, the hem of her dress riding up to expose her panties. She tugged it back down into place, looked at Nikola to see his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and looked down at the _enaend_. It seemed calm, despite the situation, and Helen allowed herself a sigh of relief. After a few more hair-pin turns and sudden changes of direction, Nikola slowed down. They were home free.

Certainly not their tidiest rescue, but it would do in a pinch. She smiled and relaxed against the back of the seat. "Thank you for your... Nikola?"

She reached over and grabbed the wheel just as he slumped, unconscious, against the window.

#

Nikola stirred at the first taste of blood. He licked his lips but didn't actually awaken until the second taste. He lifted his head off the pillow and heard Helen's sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"What on earth..."

"You don't want to know." She put the bag aside. "My options were a bit limited, I'm afraid. I felt it was better to provide the blood I could get rather than hunting for something that would be more palatable. How do you feel?"

"I'd love a tall glass of the antelope you introduced me to in Africa. But otherwise I'm in one piece. Did we at least win?"

"We won. The _enaend_ is at a secure holding facility until James can arrange safe passage for it back to England."

"Huzzah for the good guys, then." He sat up, grunted, and looked down at his chest. The wounds were still visible, but mostly healed. Helen had peeled off his soiled clothes - jacket, waistcoat, shirt and undershirt - and washed him with the cloth and basin sitting on the nightstand. He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently I slept through the good parts."

"I was very worried about you, Nikola. If you'd..."

He put his hand on her thigh, only then realizing she was still in her flapper dress and his hand rested on the bare skin of her upper leg. Helen looked down at it as well, but neither of them pushed it away. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in bed. He smiled. "If you feel that bad, there are ways you can make it up to me." He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the plunging neckline of her dress.

She glared at him, a perturbed twist of her lips that revealed as much amusement as anger.

"Nothing untoward." He pushed himself up to the headboard, lacing his hands together on his stomach. The bullet wounds were still sensitive. "Just dance for me."

"You cannot be serious."

"I was shot, and I didn't even get a chance to see the show. I think a simple dance is reasonable enough."

Helen opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, to tell him that if he expected recompense whenever he helped a friend in need then she would never call on him again. But then she closed her mouth, gently removed his hand from her thigh, and nodded.

"All right."

Nikola was unprepared for her acquiescence. She stood up and went to the corner of the room where a phonograph was standing. She placed a record on the turntable, placed the needle in the groove, and the music began to fill the small apartment. She kept her back to him, her palms facing down as she shimmied her hips in time to the music. She tapped her right heel against the floor in time with the music, then turned and began to dance.

She had taken off her shoes, and her bare feet made hollow thumbs on the wooden floor as she moved. There was a certain roughness to her movements, not like the way she had danced for the men in the tavern. This was a private dance, just for him. The streetlight shining through the window gave her an orange-gold aura. The new blood in his veins began to move toward a certain central spot.

Nikola was transfixed, his eyes locked on the way her dress moved around her curves. She stepped forward and lifted her foot in a kick, then stepped back and lifted her foot backward. When she danced, her hips and shoulders stayed in motion seemingly independent of her limbs. She waved her hands, kept her face toward him, and seemed to be possessed by the music.

As she danced, one of Nikola's hands drifted lower. Helen's eyes tracked the movement, but she didn't say anything. She kept the faux smile plastered on her face as Nikola upped the ante, sliding down the zipper of his pants. He watched her throat move as she swallowed, her smile wavering but not disappearing as she kept moving.

"Helen..."

"Sh. I must concentrate on the music."

Nikola swallowed, licked his lips. He reached into his pants and felt the growing length of his cock as Helen moved. There was sweat on her chest. When she turned sideways, he could see it reflecting the streetlight. She turned her back to him again and bent down, shamelessly lifting the hem of her skirt so he could see the seat of her red underwear before she twisted and danced away again.

The barrier breached, Nikola freed his erection from his pants. He wet his palm with a pass of his tongue, and began stroking. When Helen turned, she looked at his lap but didn't slow her dance. The song stopped, and Helen put her hands behind her back. She spun in a slow circle and he saw she was gripping each forearm with the opposite hand. When she completed the turn, a new song began. It was slower, and Helen swayed to the tune with an invisible lover.

Nikola closed his eyes, his thumb brushing the head of his cock. When he looked again, Helen was slipping her scanty underwear down her legs. She kicked them away as if they were a minor hindrance and continued to move. She held her hands out as if embracing her dance partner, standing now on her toes as she moved.

The flapper dress was incongruous to her dance, so Nikola wasn't surprised when she slipped the shoulder straps down. His nostrils flared with the force of his breathing as she shook her hips and let the dress fall to the ground.

His first impression was that she stood naked before him, but she still wore a brassiere cut so that it wouldn't show under her dress. He moved his hand faster, running his fingertips along the underside of his shaft before teasing the very bottom of the glans. He was painfully hard as Helen reached back to undo the series of hooks, barely bothering to dance now. The brassiere fell away and she stood nude at the foot of his bed.

"Helen..."

She turned and he ran his eyes down the slope of her back, to the curve of her ass, and he closed his eyes. Helen spun, and he saw the pale pink coins of her nipples. He saw the curve of her stomach, the light hair between her legs, her strong thighs. She cupped herself, hiding her pale hair, and he saw her fingers moving. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Nikola."

He came, thrusting against his hand as his semen spilled over his fingers and dripped onto the crotch of his trousers. His mouth dropped open, and he worked his jaw from side to side as his penis throbbed in his hand. Helen's own orgasm was mild by comparison, a soft exhalation as she squeezed her breast with her free hand.

Nikola watched her, idly stroking himself as she regained her senses. She looked at him and calmly walked around the edge of the bed. She dipped the cloth back into the basin, squeezed it dry, and leaned over the bed. Nikola grunted as she gently cleaned him. She pulled the cloth tight around two fingers and brushed it up and down the sides of his cock, circled the tip, and then blotted the stains on his trousers.

She looked at him, hands resting on the mattress beside his hip. She stared into his eyes, unashamed by her nudity. Her eyes were hypnotic, and he found he couldn't look away even to gawk. When her voice broke the spell, it was soft and whispered. "Have you been duly compensated?"

"Yes... for now."

Helen rolled her eyes, but she also smiled slightly as she retreated from the bed. She knelt to gather her clothes and walked quickly into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Nikola sank back against the pillows and looked up at the water stains on the ceiling. The good guys won, and a dangerous Abnormal was off the streets. His motives hadn't been purely selfless; he'd grown quite fond of New York in his time there. It was a great place, as far as the United States went, and he would have hated to see some silly little creature destroy it. The violence hadn't been part of the original plan, but Helen had definitely made up for that. In spades.

Some things were worth getting shot for.


End file.
